A Letter On Leaving

on the frail pale wings of Morning I have sailed away to Spain winging well above the breakers of your ocean fraught with pain As I cupped your face in parting as I kissed you for the last, as my journey I was starting, I could see the die was cast Yes you loved me on the Wednesday that you didn't go to town, and on Friday you forgave me for the way I let you down Late last May you nearly told me that you hoped that we could try to begin to start pretending we were lovers,you and I All the waiting and the wishing and the watching while you sleep all the hours spent in fishing for the complements you keep underneath your silent pillow fluffed with smothered words of love buried 'neath the weeping willow with an epitaph above saying only that you're sorry that I never understood all the things you never told me and you know I never would.